


The Scholar's Folly (Second Autumn)

by traipsingexodus



Series: Homunculus [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Hoenn Region, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Kanto Region, Mild Smut, Pokephilia, Romantic Fluff, Xenolinguistics, Xenophilia, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:09:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6603355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traipsingexodus/pseuds/traipsingexodus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One year since he met Viola, the idyllic pastures of the bubble Johannes has insulated himself in alongside her is set to burst. After all, words speak what we think. And telepathy will glean what we feel. But meaning is implicit when not explained, built upon a foundation of understanding that begins at birth - Johannes has forgotten about this detail with Viola, and the devil is in the detail indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Embarrassment

“Master, this one has a question,” she asked suddenly. Most of the trip had been taken to nothing more than the sound of footfalls, and given that he heard it within his head of all places, it was still startling. Perhaps she noticed, because she added, “This one apologizes.” Her head bowed and she curtsied. “She should have realized that this communication must still be awkward.”

He shook his head. “No, it's not that; it's just been really quiet for the last few hours so I didn't expect conversation.” Viola smiled politely and nodded. “And, please, call me Johannes. Master sounds...” He paused. “Creepy.”

Viola cocked her head. “This one is in direct service to you, as she is an asset under your ownership,” she chimed in his head, “It is not inaccurate to call you Master.” At the look on his face she added, “But very well, this one will do as you wish, Johannes.”

Johannes chuckled, more to ease his discomfort than anything. “It's fine, I only bring it up because of...well, just how things are between us. I wouldn't expect you to still see yourself as er, an “asset” as you put it.”

The Gardevoir tilted her head again, wrestling to comprehend the subtleties of his statement. At last she relented, and settled for cheating by reading his thoughts. There were moments stolen away in the lonelier places of the towns they had traveled to, the steam of a shower obscuring a lithe figure standing before him, the musical chimes of her own moans and the constant pulsing undercurrent of lust swirling gently in each scene. At the center burnt the unmistakable flames of affection.

“This one believes she understands,” she began, “All of that intercourse has a strong meaning within it for you, yes? It seems to be a portion of our relations you highly cherish.”

“Er, yes, but I think it's a bit more than that,” responded Johannes. He scratched his head and frowned. “I mean, it's not like it's the only reason driving the relationship.” Viola tilted her head again, and to it he continued, “Well I mean, is it for you?”

A delicate hand came to her chin – body language he'd taught her to express thought. In her head played a long stretch of images from her travels. Soft linen twisting in her hands, a balcony at sunset, a pair of chopsticks dangling a piece of food before her teasingly, the warmth of his embrace, the delicate touch of his hands as he lifted her off the ground – a soft smile crossed her face as he looked him in the eyes. “No, this one feels it is far more than just sexual relations that she appreciates in her relationship with Johannes.”

It was a remarkably precise (and rather unusually worded) way to express herself, but he smiled brightly nonetheless and put his hand out towards her. “Beautiful. Let's keep moving then.” She took his hand and walked beside him in silence for a minute or so before curiosity got the better of her.

“You explained the implications of holding one's hand – this one understands that. However, she wonders why this action has such an implication in the first place,” she asked.

Johannes bit his thumb with his free hand and mumbled through it. “Jeez, you really know how to pick questions Viola.” He hummed absently as he mulled the question over. “I guess it's just literal togetherness. When you hold someone's hand you show that you are close to them in some way both figuratively and literally.” He sighed. “I mean, that's how I see it. Other people would probably see it differently.” He paused. “I didn't really decide to give the gesture meaning. I don't know who did, honestly. It's just something that is. Something we do.”

Viola nodded and said slyly, “As a mentor on human interactions you seem to have difficulty answering questions concerning the reasoning behind the meanings of actions. This one finds it amusing.”

Johannes rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know I don't always have the answers, but at least I explained kissing properly. That one was really easy to paint you a picture for.”

“This one doesn't remember a painting,” she began.

He sighed. “No, it's an expression. A figure of speech. It means that explaining it was very easy to do. But anyway, that's besides the point.”

“This one agrees – you were very...thorough,” said Viola at last. She felt color rise in her cheeks, brought on from embarrassment at a sudden rush of desire. She wrestled with the thought for a moment before saying, “This one would like to kiss.”

Johannes poorly suppressed his chuckle. “How formal of you,” he said. He stopped walking and turned to her. With a gentle hand he lifted her face up towards his and bent slightly over to kiss her. He pulled back slightly and whispered, “I've told you a few times already that you don't exactly have to ask for these.” He kissed her again and added, “You just, er...” He straightened up, a look of mild confusion on his face. “Well, you just do it? I guess? No, that sounds odd. You make it obvious the way you look at someone or the way you get closer to them. It's written on your face and in your posture, you know?”

Viola's mouth curved into a smile and she said gently, “No. This one has very little understanding about what you mean. She is capable of levitation – would it be acceptable to float before you and reach out to grasp your face?”

“I mean, yeah, you can do that. But there's plenty of ways you can ask for it,” he responded. The conversation was becoming progressively stranger to him by the minute – the number of ways a person could ask for affection were countless. “But you could also...” He trailed off and shook his head. “Just do what you think is appropriate. Maybe copy stuff you see out in the world.”

The Gardevoir's face fell into a slight frown. “This one felt asking was the most polite method of engaging in an act of affection.” She looked away from him in embarrassment. This was a half-truth – she also found it intensely embarrassing to be forward. “Sh-she will attempt to be more forthcoming in the future.”

It would come to pass the “future” meant some five minutes later, when she abruptly floated before him and took his face into her hands. She drew her face close to his but turned her face away at the last moment as she erupted into a fit of embarrassed giggles. Johannes grinned and turned her beet-red face back to him and kissed her. “You'll get it in time,” he said bracingly.

Amid another fit of giggles, Viola replied, “This one hopes so. She can hardly manage the embarrassment.”

 


	2. Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't so much a slow shuffle to the precipice of acceptability as it was a bodily toss of one's self into the inviting sea of the forbidden.

* * *

 

Johannes gazed out into the darkened woods, running his hand along Viola's side absently. The Gardevoir was sleeping soundly in his lap, having turned in early after a Trainer a few hours earlier had accosted them, demanding a battle. Despite his explanations about his status as a Researcher, they persisted. He was rather fortunate that they had tossed an Arbok out against him as he was decidedly inexperienced in battling and rode natural advantages to victory. He took his chin in his free hand and sighed. It was autumn again. Already a year had passed since the unusual relationship he had struck up with his partner had only begun to bloom.

Viola was an odd case, he wagered, for a number of reasons. She seemed more interested watching him and communicating (as best as Pokemon could) than she was in battling, though she never disobeyed a direct order to fight. It began to feel unusual for Johannes to demand such things of her, however. Not for any protest on her part, but more so his own budding curiosity as to her general disinterest in what drove most Pokemon and their Trainers through the region.

This curiosity is what allowed him to endure the pitfalls and problems of trying to communicate with a creature that inherently failed to grasp many of the unspoken rules of conversation and coexistence. Viola's aptitude for language from her typing and the prodigious intellect her species granted all of its kind meant shockingly little when at last Johannes could actually speak to her. Back then, he would have described it as a conversation with something more animal than human – now, he would say a more accurate statement is “alien.” Her language was far from crass and fraught with grammatical error – it was simply the most precise (and at times, blunt) language he'd heard in his life.

This is likely why he found her to be more animal than human back then (he chuckled to himself – Viola wasn't human, but he kept forgetting) – she said precisely what the situation presented. Her answers were literal, and her desires were given words in a cold, exacting manner. It was unnerving, but for how cold her speech (or rather, telepathy) was, her vocalizations and her body language was more in line with typical human emotion. A wave of mild shame washed over Johannes. Xenophilia ran strongly in his blood. A little too strong, he would wager, as evidenced by the odd sideways glances he had gotten over the past few months as he and Viola wandered through towns, hand in hand. It hardly mattered to him – the life of a Trainer allowed him a great deal of time away from the odd glances he received.

He figured the odd position he found himself in one winter night, however, was more a product of his foolhardiness (though the xenophilia did factor in a bit) than anything else. Understanding precious little of what Viola meant behind her words, he had come to believe that her words were what they presented, and nothing more. He had been under the impression his attempts at getting her to understand human communication had meant relatively little to her and failed to make much impact on her way of seeing him and how they spoke. Of course, he was wrong.

* * *

 

_Johannes unrolled his sleeping bag on the floor of the tent and slipped inside. He stared at the roof of the tent before sitting up as the flaps to his tent opened and revealed Viola. The look on her face was nearly unreadable, save a slight flush in her cheeks._

“ _Viol_ _a? You ready to turn in?” he said, reaching for his bag._

“ _No,” came the reply in his head._

He grinned to himself. The musical quality of her “voice” didn't manifest until the last frosts of that winter. Before that, it had been as cold as the air outside the tent that night.

_The flush in her cheeks deepened, and her eyes fell away from his for a moment. She looked back to him, the color in her cheeks fading slightly, with what he could only imagine was confidence brimming behind her eyes. “This one wishes to procreate.”_

_Johannes's eyes went wide as he sputtered a hodgepodge of meaningless sounds from his mouth. He had the faint idea that Viola might have been interested in him, but he was determined to believe that it was the very definition of “faint.” This – this was much more than he bargained for. It took him a moment to register that Viola had been unzipping the sleeping bag and pulling it away from his body. It was then that it dawned on Johannes that it was not a request on her part, it was a statement. Not quite a demand, but she was going to try it._

_As many in the animal kingdom simply tried, taking failure as grounds to try again, here or elsewhere, with the same would-be partner, or a new one altogether, he believed she would do exactly the same. Albeit, she would be hard pressed to find another partner, as he kept no other Pokemon and traveled alone. Perhaps a wild one? He shook himself from the contemplation and felt his pants being pulled away. Johannes was impressed enough to forget to say anything to stop her – he had said precious little to her about human anatomy, but given her general form, it would have been a stretch to believe that their methods of reproduction were much different, and an even bigger stretch to believe she wouldn't have inferred the same._

_The last vestiges of his shame came away from him as his underwear did and revealed his own unmistakable willingness to “procreate.” This willingness was not lost on Viola; the flush in her cheeks rose again and the sounds of her breathing picking up slightly were noticeable. He felt the soft petals of her fingers crawl up his arms and come to a rest on his shoulders as he positioned herself over him. She stopped for a moment to move aside the folds of her dress before lowering herself onto him. The beginnings of protest had been bouncing upon the very tip of tongue, born from some vague concept of shame and degeneracy, but melted away as Viola's soft folds engulfed him.\_

_Time escaped him, and when at last he withdrew, eagerness wilting in the wake of climax, he looked to Viola who remained laying on her back, the flush fading from her face, and her panting giving way to normal breathing once again. She drew herself up after a minute, pushing hair away from her face and smoothing out her dress before turning to Johannes. In his head, the phrase, “This one is ready to sleep,” sprang to life. He nodded, the high that had been keeping him awake now fading, and dug her ball out of his bag and aimed it at her. A flash of red light lit the tent for a moment and she was gone._

_Johannes pulled himself into his sleeping bag and rubbed his eyes before contemplating the black canvas of the tent. This was nothing like what it had been like with his ex._

* * *

 

He chuckled to himself and stoked the fire in his camp. Typically, couples had a more romantic consummation, and while his was memorable, it was hardly his idea of romantic. Viola stirred in his lap and sat up, rubbing her eyes blearily. The usual musical tones of her voice were lower and hitching – she was clearly very groggy. “Mas- Um, Johannes,” she chimed, “what time is it?” She looked at him, trying in vain to stifle a yawn.

Johannes smiled and replied after glancing at his watch, “Just past 11pm Viola. I wouldn't try to wake up too much either, I'm thinking of turning in shortly myself.”

She nodded and rose, somewhat unsteady, and reached out for his hand. “Let's go to bed then,” she chimed. “Please?” she added after a beat.

He laughed again and allowed himself to be pulled back to their tent. She threw herself almost immediately onto the (now much larger) sleeping bag upon the ground and yawned again. After changing, Johannes laid down beside her and rested his chin upon her shoulder. “Viola, you asleep?” he murmured. A soft grunt of denial came from somewhere in her throat. “I was just thinking about last winter. We haven't talked about it much, but I figured you were feeling much better about it. At least, I think so. I don't get many images of it from you when we're doing it.”

It appeared as if an electric charge was running along Viola's neck and spine. She rolled over to face Johannes and looked him in the eyes, a small frown upon her face. “This one...” She stopped. The chimes in his head resumed, sounding thoroughly melancholy, “ _I_ am still saddened by it. But not so much that it preoccupies me. It is a thought I do my best to not dwell on. I think that has helped. It doesn't hurt quite so much to have to acknowledge it, and I am happy that we are together.” The frown gave way to a small smile. “In more ways than one, if I may add.”

He pulled Viola closer to him and kissed her forehead, badly muffling his chuckles. “You've actually gotten a good grasp of innuendo. I'm impressed.”

Her laughter was unusual. Like the chimes in his head had moved into his ears, a sort of tinkling sound that lifted his spirits and always split his face into a grin. He felt her press her body closer to his, her laughter dying out and shortly after replaced by the soft breathing of slumber.

He fell again into a reverie, now contemplating the very situation that made him ask her such an odd question in the first place.

* * *

 

_An entire week had passed following that strange, wonderful event he had with her, and it seemed to Johannes that he might as well have just been a seed dispensary. Viola was hardly being cold to him (at least, any colder than her speech made her sound) but she seemed thoroughly uninterested in discussing or even acknowledging what they had done._

_Animal lust, he figured, and by the Wednesday of the following week, he was almost certain that it was that and a drive to reproduce that had catalyzed that sex. It was on that day that Viola threw open the flap to his tent looking mildly perturbed. “This one wishes to procreate again. The last time was not fruitful.” She ran a finger along her abdomen, where Johannes imagined her womb would be, before crawling up to him and nearly replicating her actions from the last time._

_And again the following Wednesday, saying precisely the same thing yet again. And the Wednesday that followed that one. So on and so forth for six Wednesdays. But each time Viola seemed noticeably more perturbed. It was on the seventh that Johannes came to realize that what he had been teaching her about human sexuality, about love (poorly, no less, having only a tenuous grasp of a subject that lived more in his heart and soul, and required words that were both embarrassing and difficult to find) and about relationships had been taking to the way she presented herself to him and how she spoke. She was sitting closer to him, held his hand from time to time and had kissed him a few times, though he had initiated all of it without fail (or at the very least requested it.)_

_But what was looking at him on all fours in his tent this time was not the usual cool, somewhat perturbed face, but instead was a flushed face marked with marked distress and, most unusually: tears. Viola crawled up to Johannes and cupped his face with her hands._

“ _This one does not understand. Procreation is not so difficult, so unlikely, that it fails seven consecutive times. This one must try again.” Her tone was dissonant – the lightly musical tones that had begun to form around her voice within his head were ringing now in different pitches and registers. It felt as if her voice was bumping about the inside of his skull, growing louder and fainter randomly. “This one must, this one must. Eggs are not so difficult to yield.” The clothes on Johannes began to vanish, appearing again in a pile beside him, but the sight of his unwilling loins seemed to tip something within her over._

_He felt terrible, and lost, unable to find words that could help the situation, but as his clothes vanished from him and the look in her eyes at his unwillingness seemed to fall away somewhere deep inside her. Then the images flooded his mind. A pastiche of all of their encounters, melting into one another, fragmenting into others, alongside explosions of memories from his past relationship, from lonely nights in his room as a teen, to the figures that caught his eye in the past: all of these memories ping-ponged about in his head. Confused, overpowering, all-consuming arousal welled up in him, and he became only vaguely aware of Viola desperately riding him after a time before the cacophony of moans, catching breaths and cries of ecstasy in his mind gave way to a noise he'd never heard before._

_It seemed that Viola was incapable of assaulting his head with the memories she felt would make him more receptive to procreation any longer as her frantic bouncing slowed and then stopped before giving way to quiet sobbing._

_Johannes roused himself from his stupor as he realized what was happening and sat himself up, prompting Viola to fall unceremoniously off of him and flat on her back. In his head, the swirl of images and sounds began to die away and her slumped figure came into proper focus before him. He shook his head rigorously, trying to get the sight of the inside of his tent to make sense once more and at last noticed that Viola's form was wracked with sobs. Terrified and confused, Johannes reached out and brushed wayward locks from her face. “Viola?” he whispered, “Are you alright?”_

* * *

 

He rolled onto his back and sighed. As different as he was from her, it seemed that Viola hadn't drawn the distinction that biology created between their species. Explaining that distinction hadn't done her any favors either – she was the closest thing Johannes had seen to inconsolable; inwardly anyway, as this terrible revelation seemed to weigh on her mind more than her body, and it was only in the blurred time that lay between sleeping and waking that half-formed images of those past weeks came into his head. They had begun to cause him considerable distress however, as he slept less restfully with each passing night and woke decidedly more tired and melancholic each passing day.

He had pored over the precious little information his Pokedex afforded him on the Ralts line and figured that there was no real means to escape what was happening – Viola was grieving the loss of what was effectively an evolutionary mandate that was ingrained in most life.

This, however, had brought Johannes a strange feeling of hope. Evidently, what he'd been teaching her had stuck, at least to a certain extent. She was interested not in finding a means to fulfill this programming, or someone else to fulfill it with (something he was privately thankful for) but instead a means to cope with it.

That hope had been confirmed two tiring, painfully quiet weeks later. The day had been dedicated largely to the capstone of his explanation of the concept of personal want and the line it draws between itself and personal requirements. He felt almost guilty, as the aspects he had chosen to teach her during the last two weeks were geared at trying to get across the idea that being intimate did not have to yield fruit, and that personal desires were very different from natural requirements. It had been a muddy field to walk with her – so much of what he explained had been self-serving, self-determined or outright plunges into the black waters of speculation where he was guided by the dim light of his own experiences alone.

* * *

 

_As the day came to a close and the sky darkened, Viola sat beside Johannes as he grilled a fish he'd caught for dinner and looked at him. The voice in his head bore warmth he hadn't heard before, and with it, paradoxically, her words managed to convey the unmistakable twangs of hurt and the determined chimes of hope. Like a rose from concrete. “It is difficult to properly accept futility, but this one believes it is in Master's best interests, as well as her own, to try to do so anyway.”_

_Johannes cocked his head. “What?” he said, “What do you mean? You're going to give up?”_

_She nodded. “Yes. This one has somewhat come to properly grasp doomed attempts at procreation.” Viola looked away, color rising in her cheeks. Showing embarrassment was not something Johannes knew her to do, but this certainly seemed to be exactly that. Inwardly, he patted himself on the back. He'd actually taught her something properly.\_

_The chimes in his head pulled him back to reality. “But that does not mean that this one has any interest in stopping, futile though it may be.” She rose to her feet and lifted her dress, pulling it to either side, the flush on her face a bright scarlet now. “She would like to try again, if Master pleases. I accept that it will be fruitless.”_

_Johannes chuckled and took one of her hands, pulling her down to him into a kiss._

* * *

 

A grin spread across his face. The fish had burnt by the time they had finished, and he realized after the fact how difficult explaining their escapade would have been to a passersby. But it was worth it. He closed his eyes. Just as she had said afterward too.

It was worth it.

 


	3. Deported

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reflection. Reverberation. A sweater.

* * *

 

_It's about what I'd expect really, just look at him. Are you really surprised?_

_Yes, I agree, it's exactly what you'd think. Disgusting, if you ask me. Who does that?_

_I don't believe for a second she was telling the truth, probably terrified her into lying._

_Can't exactly take her away, not really our position to do so since he's a tourist and there'd be murmurs if we did anything._

_But really, what do you expect from someone from **Hoenn?**_

* * *

Those last few words seemed to reverberate in Johannes's mind, growing louder and more dissonant until a firm, chiming voice rang in his head. “Enough.”

His eyes peeled open and revealed mostly the top of Viola's head resting against his chest. He lifted his head and stretched his neck, groaning with relief. “Sorry Viola, what was that?” he mumbled, mostly into the crown of her head. He had not slept well the past few days; the deportation was weighing rather heavily on his mind and on his sleep.

Viola pulled her head off his chest and smoothed out her dress. “This one has been hearing the voices in her master's head for the past few nights,” she said matter-of-factly, “And it has begun to weigh heavy on her as well. She has been more than willing to overlook her inability to properly procreate with you successfully, but it would seem that you are having difficulty overlooking our deportation.”

He tilted his head back against the headrest of his seat and sighed. She was right, that was indisputable. Still, he felt the usual pull to wallow in self-pity and worry and so he looked out the window to avoid answering immediately. The oranges and reds the rising sun cast out on the water had given way to clean, uniform blueness. He had been sleeping for a few hours now, he figured.

A soft caress ran across his face. He should relent, he thought, it was only fair. He would not, however, be given that option, as the soft petals of her hand grasped his chin and turned his head to face him. He was at once embarrassed, impressed and proud, and it made for a strange and uncomfortable mixture in his stomach. His teaching was having an effect, and each day it seemed he was more impacting than he expected himself to be. He knew it was impossible, but it was now as if Viola was looking down at him, a paradoxical smile upon her face, etched out of reprove and concern. “Johannes, you're worrying too much. Things will be fine.”

He drew Viola into an embrace and softly caressed her head. “I don't remember teaching you how to chastise me,” he said, half-chuckling. He kissed the crown of her head. “I was worried more about what might have been. And I really shouldn't be.”

“What worried you?” chimed Viola. “That I'd be taken away? That's impossible. I wouldn't let them.” Johannes tore his eyes open. “Or was it something else? Some kind of thought you've hidden away because it hurts too much to contemplate?”

Johannes gently pushed Viola away from him, his hands grasping her shoulders. He looked her in the face and said quietly, seriously, “Viola – what are you getting at?” It was a redundant question really, but it had been on his mind that past few days more than he cared it to be. He knew, since the beginning more or less, that a time might come, fear it as he might, that she would choose how she presented herself to others. The answer was coming, too soon, much too soon. But perhaps he'd done enough – he always dared to hope, though the sick turning in his gut checked it.

Again, soft petals ran down his cheek, and her voice, quiet and harmonious, echoed in his mind. “You fear that they would take me from you because this one is the property of her master. But they would not know me as your companion, but your partner. Viola. I will not hide in the shadow of your title and feign innocence about our actions.” She kissed him and rested her head against his chest once more. “I fall with you, Johannes. And for you, if need be.”

He said nothing in response to her words, fearing that anything he could drum up failed to do her tender words justice. He settled on embracing her, desperately hoping the action alone would save him where words failed. Musical hums and soft colors played across the backdrop of his mind. Perhaps it was enough.

* * *

The long path that led to his home was slick with rain and partially obscured by overgrown vegetation. The transfer from ferry to train and train to foot had been completed almost entirely in silence and it worried Johannes. He should have said something, but nothing that came to mind seemed to be enough. Yet Viola seemed utterly unperturbed. The quite melodies playing across his mind that he'd come to associate with contentedness had never stopped. He was over-thinking things, he thought. She was content – he too should have been. And yet he felt he owed her something. Anything.

He turned the key to his front door and breathed in the scent of stale air. It had been two long years since he was last home. He pulled his backpack off and considered it. They wouldn't be lingering, so he tossed it next to the door. With a sigh he walked into the living room and tossed it onto a musty armchair before looking back at Viola. “I guess...Home, sweet home?” Viola gave him a small smile in return and psychically cracked the windows in the living room.

He should not have felt so awkward, but it felt to him as if he'd only made it more apparent to her that he should say something. He grasped wildly for anything to spare him having to confront this and blurted out, “Let's have a nice dinner. It's a special occasion isn't it?” She gave him another smile and nodded.

* * *

He wasn't much of a cook. Perpetually alternating between cooking campfire food and eating at restaurants had left Johannes with an acute understanding of how to grill just about anything and little more. He was grateful an old colleague of his from school had left some food in his refrigerator after he phoned him with the news that he'd be returning, but with only a couple of day's worth of food or so, there was precious little room for error. Still, the chicken was at least cooked through, if a bit dry, the potatoes were appropriately creamy now that he'd mashed them, if bland, and the bread had only burnt slightly in his oven. He looked down at his plate, thoroughly unsatisfied and then across at Viola. She gave him a knowing smile and mused, “You worry too much Johannes.”

He sighed. “It's not that, I just wanted to do something nice. Something to make up for saying nothing and making it seem like I don't care about what you said. But I haven't got the slightest idea what to say. I'm guessing more and more as I teach you and pretty soon I'll only be guessing. I don't mind I just have to wonder if some day I'll do something wrong.” He stopped. “I guess I do worry too much.”

Viola rose and sat down on his lap, bringing the delicate petals to his face. “This one has erred. So too will you,” said the placid chimes in his head, “And we shall continue along regardless. It is unavoidable, and so we will take it in grace.”

He sighed and pressed his forehead against hers. “You know everything that's been bugging me all day, right? You know everything about me.”

Viola shook her head. “I do not pry when I can manage it.” Her tone was sheepish. Clearly, she pried quite a bit. “Perhaps that is not terribly often, but I try. As do you.”

He sat back in his chair and considered her, before his face split into a grin. “That's my sweater.”

Viola looked down and then back up at him, a bright red flush forming against the stark white of her cheeks. “Forgive this one, she...was curious.” She withdrew her hands into the sleeves and flapped them lightly. “This is delightful.”

“Keep it. Winter's on the way,” he said warmly. “Gives me something to pull off of you too.” She turned away from him, flapping a limp sleeve wildly at him. He chuckled and kissed her. “Let me clean up and I'll see if we can't find something to do.” He frowned. “That isn't cleaning anyway.” He tossed the dishes unceremoniously in the sink and turned about to find Viola gone. “Viola?” He stepped into the living room and found her rummaging in his backpack. “What are you looking for?”

She produced a box of matches from the bag. “Even with this sweater, this one is rather cold.” She had a point; the air was less stale now, but the windows had let in a draft.

“Close the windows, I'll start a fire.” She nodded, and immediately after, the sounds of the windows snapping shut rang throughout the room. He fiddled with the gas valve and ignition on the fireplace for a few minutes before it lit itself properly. He plopped himself down next to Viola and put his arm over her to pull her in close. “It'll be a bit before it gets warm, but I think I can make do.” He gave her a sly grin.

Viola buried her face in her hands and nestled against him. “You are determined to embarrass me,” she whined. He chuckled and pulled her free of her hands to kiss her. It was at this moment that he realized he was home. He and his partner were alone, free from prying eyes and judging scowls, from admonishment and outright disgust. Free, if only for a moment, before they inevitably set out again to wander the globe. His hands moved almost automatically down to the hem of her sweater and pulled up; it caught for a moment on her head and after he tugged it free he kissed her. They fell back against the couch, deeper into blissful oblivion. Viola stopped for a moment and gasped for air. “Johannes? What brought this on?”

His answer was thoroughly nonverbal.

* * *

It was a sort of loop that the two had found themselves in. One would stop, short of breath, slick with sweat and entirely spent, and the other would begin again just a few moments afterward. Johannes recalled having stopped long enough for the two to eat perhaps twice, and both occasions ended with rather reckless use of his kitchen table.

He stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, his entire body aching. Images of the last two and a half days floated across his mind. Stumbling, tripping, writhing, rolling, blinded, zealous, _obsessive_ sex. Each time ended with him more tired than the last, and each beginning started with him only more aroused. He looked for a moment at Viola and the back to the ceiling.

It had been the same for her too. The images and sounds in his head were usually clearer than his own memory, and they usually showcased a vignette of times long past spent in the lonely woods, blurring the edges of his vision with scenes of past times. But they had blurred and distorted with each passing hour over the last few days. Images exploded out of each other, melted into new ones and formed strange shapes and colors of entwined bodies and colliding landscapes. The sounds of the present flowed into the sounds of the past and each bounced off the waves the other created. He heard many copies of himself and (incredibly) embarrassing sweet nothings juxtaposed against the dainty tones of Viola's actual voice and the musical notes within his head. They had rattled and bounced about in his skull, exploding into still more sounds that became shapes, then forms, then himself and Viola and by the third morning were an indescribable blur of color and sound so loud it threatened to explode out of his very head.

And as he laid upon his mattress and contemplated the ceiling he realized how terribly tired his very mind felt. He got up and sat on the edge of the bed. More so than his body, even. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and noticed his PokeDex laying innocently upon the stand.

Realization struck him so forcefully he felt idiotic: she was intensely attuned to his emotions. It was the mark of her lineage. Like a microphone that picks up the sound of the very speaker it is attached to, she echoed the sounds of his heart. And he echoed them right back to her. Again and again, until at last one gave out. Johannes grinned in spite of himself. He harbored a spot of pride that he wasn't first. Immediately behind her, yes, but not first.

He set about cooking breakfast (though it was nearly two in the afternoon) and when Viola had walked into the kitchen, bleary eyed and yawning, he had nearly finished. He felt slight arms wrap around his midsection and heard an odd, rough tone in his head. “Good morning...” Behind him he heard Viola yawn widely before he felt her head slump against his back.

“Sit down Viola,” he chuckled, “You'll feel better after you've got some food in you.” She complied and he joined her shortly after with a plate of eggs and toast. “Tired?”

Viola nodded and took a mouthful of toast. “Extremely,” said the chimes, “But not unfulfilled.” She gave Johannes a small smile before she took another bite of toast. “This one is having some difficulty recalling the last few days accurately, however.”

He nodded. “Same here, but I guess I can kind of understand why,” he mused. He caught her eye and looked away in mild embarrassment. “I thought this homecoming was going to be kind of sad. Getting kicked out of a region isn't exactly my idea of fun.”

Viola pushed her eggs from one side of the plate to other for a moment before she looked up at Johannes, a smile he could only describe as self-satisfied upon her face. “I suppose getting caught fellating you turned out for the better then?”

Johannes choked on his toast.

 

 


	4. Hartshorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncork and waft.

* * *

Johannes tossed and turned as he slept. It was a dream that reminded him powerfully of something quite pleasant and something decidedly unpleasant colliding together, and it left him uncomfortable, guilt-ridden and aroused.

* * *

_Viola's tongue ran the length of his member and stopped at the tip. In his head a pastiche of scenes from an old flame in a rather similar position to Viola were playing at breakneck speed. Viola's eyes seemed to be focused on something past Johannes for a moment before she resumed. Memories, it seemed, were just as effective at teaching as his words were – though they could potentially teach Viola volumes when it came to more common aspects of communication (though he'd yet to try), they certainly did wonders with teaching sexuality._

_Soft petals clasped about him and ran along his length in time with her rhythm and Johannes at last forgot himself. Gone was the tree he was leaning against, the fortunate patch of forest ground upon which Viola knelt and the only partially-obscuring brush around them. Now, it seemed, lust reigned supreme._

_But it would be a short-lived monarchy. A sharp, barking voice rang out in the trees and pulled Johannes out of the endless plain that had stretched out around him. In just one moment he had gone from blissfully ignorant to painfully aware. The next half-hour or so blurred together in his dream turned nightmare. He walked, head hung low, behind the Ranger. Somewhere far outside his head, words of admonishment and incredulity mixed with pity and disgust bounced uselessly off his ears. He turned his head and saw Viola following beside him quietly – no commentary chimed in his head and her eyes stared forward. The forest gave way to a town and it was here Johannes was unceremoniously dumped at a Ranger Station. Here too, words of hostility, disgust, and incredulity bounced off him as he vaguely nodded. He signed papers, presented a passport, proffered Viola's PokeBall for examination and answered a few choice questions. All the while she remained seated beside him, silent._

“ _Do you know why you were taken here?” He nodded. “Do you understand that what you've done was not only indecent, it is in direct violation of laws in place to prevent it?” Another nod. “Do you know that you could have your Pokemon taken from you for this violation?”_

_Johannes squirmed a bit in his chair. The Ranger looked much taller from where he sat, and felt almost like a child as defiance welled within him. He looked the Ranger in the eyes; defiance now twitched on the edge of his mouth before he said, “No. You can't.” The Ranger looked taken aback, and the angry expression he wore faltered for a moment before hardening._

“ _We are perfectly within our rights to do precisely that,” responded the Ranger coolly, “As mandated by Kanto law.” He drew himself to his full height, a self-satisfied smirk on his face._

_Johannes scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Kanto. Not Hoenn. Laws regarding Trainer/Pokemon conduct do not change for tourists visiting a region with laws different than their own except in cases of direct bodily harm and murder.” He dug into his pocket and produced a Trainer card and handed it to the Ranger. “As it stands, what I did is protected by my position.” This was a stretch. A lie probably. He was a Behavioral Specialist. A researcher. What he was caught doing was a behavior, but not exactly one that came up in his manuals or textbooks, and certainly not the focus of his research, but still, it seemed to sound officious enough to cover him._

_The Ranger caught his retort in his throat and turned to consult with another Ranger for a moment. Behind the desk a few feet away, their dispositions both soured as the conversation dragged on and a musty book was brought out from beneath a desk. Finally, one of them picked up a phone, then hung up and threw Johannes a nasty look._

_The Ranger he'd been talking to walked back to Johannes, a look of supreme irritation on his face. A hand came up to his temple and rubbed it intensely. “You'll be deported back to Hoenn. No further charges. Your deportation is final.”_

* * *

Johannes sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. He felt terrible. His eyes ached, his head pounded and the whole of his body seemed disconnected. The deportation weighed heavier on him than ever, and neither his rationalization that a welcome respite from his travels here in his home is what he needed, nor Viola’s own insistence that he needn’t worry so much could remove the feeling of dread and guilt that sat in his stomach like a stone. He got up and trudged to the kitchen amid vague thoughts of a soothing cup of tea. It was nearly daybreak, the creeping shades of orange rising in the sky and bringing much needed light into his cold kitchen. He set a kettle on the stove and pulled a mug from his cupboard.

Was it his deportation that bothered him so much? By all accounts, he should have been happy, but something in him seemed to be eating away at his conscience. An indistinct feeling of wrong. His mind wandered briefly to his travels, to the quiet, lonely forest roads.

The kettle boiled. He shook his head wearily and sighed. “I’m over-thinking things again. Just like Viola said I was,” he muttered, before he helped himself to tea. He took a sip and jumped at the loud ringing that came from the living room. He looked about for the source for a few minutes before pulling his forgotten C-Gear from his bag. He frowned, as he hadn’t been sending regular reports back to the Institute he was registered with for some time, he figured perhaps they were finally checking to see if he was even alive. He fiddled with the gadget for a moment and found he had voice mail.

“Johannes, it’s been ages since we last heard from you!” It was the head researcher of his department, Eric, and he sounded both annoyed and amused. “Send a report back after you get this message, please. You’ve got a job to do and you haven’t exactly been doing it if the radio silence over last four months are anything to go by.”

Johannes frowned as the voice mail ended. Regular reports were only necessary for Class A studies - Viola’s case had hardly managed a Class B rating. Something had to be wrong if Eric was contacting him... He groaned as realization dawned on him – he had been formally checked into the region once again, and this information had to have shown up in his institute’s systems. They knew he was back and likely expected the report to be in person, not simply a video call – and he _hated_ giving reports in person.

He rose and walked back to his bedroom. The sun had only begun to filter through his blinds, casting the dust upon most of his furniture into sharp relief. Viola still slumbered and upon seeing the thoroughly peaceful expression on her face, he settled on returning to the kitchen and waiting for her to wake. He flipped idly through his most recent notebook and felt a pang of guilt absorb itself into the ball of guilt already sitting in his stomach. He really should have taken more notes.

So he did. He documented Viola’s increased capacity to reference herself with personal pronouns, to not simply mimic behaviors but apply them to socially appropriate situations. He wrote off her capacity for empathy as being exactly what is to be expected of Gardevoir: it was a mark of their entire species to resonate strongly with the Trainer’s emotions. He paused in his notes and then added,

“ _Though it is curious that Viola continues to exhibit a marked interest in communication. Sheer luck alone seems to have dropped a partner into my lap that is not only uninterested in combat, but extremely interested in my research, having taken exceptionally well to my teachings.”_

He tapped his pen against his lip for a moment then closed the notebook. That was good enough. The report would be dull, he imagined, simply a catch-up for Eric to keep him from telling him off for slacking. Johannes leaned back in his chair and stretched. He didn’t want to stay much longer in Hoenn, though with Kanto now likely to simply turn him away at the border and Johto already largely traveled during a case study with his ex Talia and her Misdreavus, Luna, he was unsure where to head next. He grimaced. With any luck, Talia would be out in the field when he went to deliver his report, as he didn't fancy running into her with Viola in tow.

He raised his mug to his mouth and poured a sizable portion of it down his front when he jumped at the soft caress on his cheek. Sputtering and sopping wet, he turned to see Viola looking both alarmed and at a loss for what to do beside him. “Th-this one apologizes, master!” rang pleading tones ins his head, “Truly, truly apologizes!” She scanned the kitchen and then pulled a towel from the counter and began pressing it into his soaked shirt, pleading apologies still ringing in his head.

“Don't sweat it Viola,” he said reassuringly, “Let me just change shirts.” He pulled the towel from her hands and soaked a bit more of the tea into it before he returned to his bedroom. He reemerged in his kitchen, now fully dressed and set about making breakfast, occasionally stealing glances at Viola, who remained seated the entire time, watching him with an expression of guilt plastered on her face. He noticed, and so, as he laid overly fried eggs onto a plate for her he asked, “Viola, why the long face?”

Her hands came up, confused and groping, to her face as she said, bewildered, “What? What happened to my face?”

Johannes's brow furrowed. “Sorry, that's an expression. Usually means that you look sad, or bothered. Make sense?”

She shrugged. At least she picked that up from him. “I suppose? It doesn't make much sense. Human faces don't elongate when they're troubled. I would have noticed it happen to your face.”

He chuckled. “No, you've got a point there. Uh...I guess, the idea is that when you're sad your face looks longer because of the way a frown shapes your face?” The scent of burnt toast greeted him. “Damn. I dunno Viola, it's an odd expression that just gets used. People know what it means but not really where it's from.” He tossed the toast onto a second plate; it was still palatable from the looks of it. “It's kind of just how things are when it comes to most idioms I guess. Some of them make more sense but a good chunk of them would probably just go over your head.” To his surprise, she nodded. Perhaps he had taught her more than he thought.

Breakfast was eaten in relative silence, and on Johannes's part, at uneven speed. He couldn't decide if he wanted to drag the meal out to stave off giving his report or finish quickly to get the whole thing over with. He settled on the latter.

* * *

The Fallarbor Research Institute remained more or less how Johannes had remembered it – as clean and unusually quiet as ever. He approached the front desk and said tentatively, “Uh, Behavioral Specialist Johannes Talburn here to submit a report directly to Head of Behavioral Research Eric Logan?” He offered the receptionist his card.

He took it from him and after a few taps on their keyboard returned it to Johannes. “Ah yes, you were expected some time today or tomorrow according to Eric. He's in his office at the moment, I can direct you there if you like.” Johannes shook his head. “Very well. However, Eric filled me in on what you were studying and made it clear that your Gardevoir was also due for an evaluation on how the efficacy of your study. Routine testing – nothing physical I imagine, just your typical pen and paper exams. Maybe verbal.”

Johannes frowned. “I don't think Viola has said much to anyone other than me. At all, even.” He looked to her. “Can you?”

She nodded. “Yes, I'm quite capable of communicating telepathically with others, Johannes. There simply hasn't been much need to since you've been doing so,” chimed the voice in his head placidly. “I apologize if that was unclear to you.”

Johannes turned to look at the receptionist and nodded. Satisfied, the receptionist said, “Through the second door on the left for the Gardevoir then. Do you need a copy of your study materials for the examiner?” Johannes shook his head and pulled his C-Gear from his pocket before heading off with Viola.

He knocked on the door to the testing room and felt his stomach nearly drop out of his body. “Talia... How are you doing?” He did his best to sound normal. It was only just enough.

Talia regarded him for a moment before finally responding, “Doing fine. I take it your Gardevoir is here for testing?” He nodded. “Alright. Do you have a copy of your study so I know what I'm testing for? Any supplementary materials that I'll need for the tests?” He handed her the C-Gear, and after a few moments to download the report, she returned it to him. “Alright. This shouldn't take long.”

Johannes nodded and tucked the C-Gear away. “Viola, I'll be back in a bit, I'm off to go talk to Eric,” he explained from the threshold of the door. He scanned the room for a moment - none of the other testing terminals or the desks associated with them were occupied. He felt the ball of nerves he’d been wrestling with earlier that morning tighten uncomfortably in his stomach.  “See you soon.” Really, that was more to himself than to Viola.

Talia waited for the door to snap shut. “Viola is it? How's your master been?” she asked as she tapped away on the keyboard of her terminal.

“Johannes has been quite fine,” answered a flat, cold voice in her head, “I forgot he was even conducting a study, honestly.” Talia looked up at the Gardevoir from her chair, a slight frown on her face. That voice unsettled her, and it was compounded by the soft expression and genuine smile upon Viola's face. “Talia?” asked the voice.

The examiner shook herself from her thoughts and focused on the documents on her monitor. “Sorry, I was distracted,” she mumbled, “Let's begin.” Privately, she wondered how Johannes ever could have fallen for such a creature.

* * *

Johannes knocked on the door to Eric's office. “Enter,” came a voice, muffled from the other side. It hadn't changed much since the last time he had been in it - the oppressive collection of books now had spilled successfully onto the floor before their shelves, more stacks of paper than ever before were piled upon Eric’s desk, and the corkboard opposite his desk had been moved aside to make room for another. And Eric, Eric remained as messy-haired, perpetually grinning as ever. “Jo! About time we got some word out of you,” said Eric genially, flashing his colleague a grin, green eyes twinkling from behind bushy eyebrows and wayward locks, “I was beginning to think you’d actually kicked the bucket out there.” He held out his hand.

Johannes shook it and sat down across from him. “Sorry, I've been a bit, uh, preoccupied?” He paused, biting his lip in nervous thought. “I guess that's a good way to put it anyway. Sorry again. Was there something specific you wanted out of me or just a report?” He pulled his C-Gear and his notebooks out preemptively. Eric said nothing but instead nodded and held his hand out to take them from him.

For ten or so minutes, Johannes sat idly by and Eric read through the notes. The researcher's expression fell slowly from a wide grin and morphed into a cool expression of concentration. A few times he saw his eyebrows raise or the corner of his mouth twitch, but little more. At last, when Eric had finished, Johannes mumbled nervously, “Uh, so...is that it?”

Eric sighed. “Not really Johannes. Your report is interesting though, to say the least.” He sat back in his hair and pressed the tips of his fingers together. His cool expression and cold, bespectacled stare fixed itself upon Johannes. “I'll be frank, these notes are almost worthless. Outside maybe the set of notes found in this book here.” He picked up Johannes's oldest journal for a moment before dropping it back on the pile. “What the hell have you been doing out there? You certainly had the right idea at the start. Your notes were meticulous, left nothing to the imagination and were very clinical. Clearly, the subject is quite capable as far as her ability to learn is concerned. But I have to ask why your notes just start to become a muddied mess the further I read into them. They're hardly notes by the end of it, just a journal.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Johannes, we publish a Journal, not a journal. The capital “J” is there for a reason. I'd be embarrassed to have this published. Wouldn't you?”

Johannes frowned, scratching at his scalp - he must have looked like an idiot. “I don't understand, there's hardly anything in there that I'd consider unworthy of being published. Sure, I used the notebooks for personal notes a few times, but it still documents her ability to respond to emotion, to understand language and grammar, even to understand expressions. She can understand idioms, Eric, isn't that impressive?”

“Johannes, we already know a great deal about Gardevoir's emotional response to their trainers. Their psychic abilities make them psychologically attuned to you as a matter of course. What you were studying was the ability, the capacity, for a Gardevoir to obtain a sufficiently advanced understanding of communication in all its aspects: verbal, physical and, time allowing, written. There's nothing here about your Gardevoir understanding written text, or properly interpreting it. What we have instead is your Gardevoir understanding a painfully limited portion of communication. And it is troubling. She knows language and grammar, yes, but to what extent? Does she understand idioms or the concept behind what idioms are? Does she know when they’re applicable? What about sarcasm? What about the subtle changes in body language and facial expression that might as well be shouts to the trained eye?”

Johannes chewed on his tongue for a moment, defiance beginning to flare up within him. “I don't understand what the problem is,” he said at last. “In these notes is a clean explanation of what I've been doing.” This was beyond belief to him - his notes, while perhaps less professional the last several months, were nonetheless extremely informative.

Eric sat back in his chair and sighed. All at once, his cold expression fell away into one befitting a man twice his years. “Yes, 'doing', in more ways than one.” Johannes felt a chill run down his spine. “We received word from a Ranger station a couple of days ago with news that a researcher of ours had been, ahem, 'stumbled' upon in the middle of a sex act. Naturally, that gave us cause for alarm, as public decency is endemic to just about any citizen. Then they told us that it was with a Pokemon. And that it was you, Johannes. Our star researcher.”

“Don't flatter me Eric, I haven't been your star researcher since Talia's project,” muttered Johannes bitterly. “And what do my personal matters have to do with my research?”

Eric reclined in his chair and rubbed his face. “Everything, clearly, Johannes. If I were a psychologist, maybe I'd have seen what your behavior on Talia's project was hinting at. Your notes are meaningless drivel – it's all your thoughts and feelings about _your_ interactions with your Gardevoir. What scientific value does that hold for us? You're a behaviorist, but this is about the _Pokemon's_ behaviors, not yours. Look at these notes:

_Viola is exceptionally receptive to the concepts that surround human intimacy and capable of properly understanding the complexities that underlie it. From body language to the obfuscating spoken language and innuendo that surrounds human sexuality, she continues to show a remarkable sharpness for catching onto the meaning of actions and words. In situations where she is unsure, her ability to recognize her own lack of understanding and posit questions – and properly process the answers she receives. This speaks volumes for Viola's abilities to properly process and wholly understand all of human communication – it is simply a matter of time, and not a matter of **if**.”_

He paused to stare at Johannes. “The point of your study was to investigate _all_ aspects of communication, not just an aspect that seems to have appealed greatly to you.”

Johannes shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but remained defiant. “I don't think what I have here is useless. Focused, yes, but far from useless. Besides, it's made talking with Viola much easier to do. Trust is a pretty important facet to a relationship, and I _know_ that Viola trusts me. Talking with her and teaching her has been really easy because of it. That should count for something Eric.” His last sentence was noticeably louder, more pointed. He had focused rather intently on just one thing, yes, but was that really so bad? It was, technically speaking one less thing to study.

Eric, however, had had enough. He stood and dropped his hands forcefully onto the desk, his mouth turned down in an almost pitying frown. His tone was sharp, exasperated, and accusing. “Johannes. You're completely out of touch with your study. With what you've done. With what your research implies. Your Gardevoir is not your research subject anymore, but she's not a companion either, she hardly seems to even be your lover. Just something to warm you on cold nights.”

Johannes stood as well, an angry scowl etched across his face. “You're in no position to talk about the personal aspects of my relationship with Viola, Eric. I would thank you to not do so.”

His colleague's laugh was hollow, and now, definitely pitying. “Listen to yourself Johannes! You're so far down the Drilbur hole you don't even know what you're doing anymore. The last goddamn thing Viola's learned from you is what your cock feels like halfway down her throat.”

The words hung heavy in the air, ringing in Johannes's ears. “What did you just say?” he whispered at last.

Eric sat down again. “Get out. This is pointless. Johannes, go and ask Viola if she even knows what _love_ is. If she _does_ , come back and I'll at the very least take back what I've _just_ said, but I maintain that you're not performing any kind of study at this point. I'm closing it out, you'll be assigned an E-Class study within the week. I'll keep it fieldwork so I don't have to worry about you getting caught doing something unsightly at work. Just make sure you don't get caught out in the countryside as well.” He turned the back of his chair to Johannes.

Johannes strongly considered wheeling the chair back around and punching Eric in the face, but thought better of it. “Fine.” He turned and stomped out of the room.

* * *

 

Talia handed the results to Johannes somewhat awkwardly, with little more than, “Here,” attached to the entire exchange. He skimmed halfheartedly through them as he and Viola exited the Institute and began their walk home. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the test results – they confirmed everything he already knew about Viola. Nothing new, and most definitely, nothing to answer Eric's question. Really, it was his question too.

Johannes stopped in his tracks, staring intently at his feet. His mouth felt dry. “Johannes?” asked Viola, turning back to him. “You are preoccupied. Very preoccupied. Shall we stop somewhere?”

He looked up at her and sighed. “Viola, do you know what love is?”

Viola drew a delicate hand to her chin and cocked her head. “No, what is it?”

Eric was right.


	5. Ember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Singular. Accusing. Defiant. Hurt.

* * *

 

The middle of a road was not the place for this kind of conversation, thought Johannes. He needed chairs, tables, quiet and tea. For all he'd explained about the concept of something as amorphous as “love” it seemed that it had all flown right past Viola, and as Eric's words bounced about in his head, and rung louder with each passing minute, he found the blame rested ever heavier on his shoulders.

He had been wrong to assume that just an explanation would have worked. Or rather, that a single explanation, once, long ago, would be enough. Then again, perhaps Viola couldn't comprehend the concept to begin with. Maybe the very idea of a relationship eluded her – for how he felt, for how he knew _she_ felt, it could all have been put to something that was beyond his understanding.

He grabbed Viola's hand and began heading towards home. He had her abilities on his side – she could talk to him, elucidate him on what on earth was bouncing about in her head because heavens know _he_ hadn't done so much as ask her. Hot shame welled in his stomach and spread across his body. That was a particularly tough realization to swallow. He hadn't done much at all, both in the way of his research and in understanding why Viola ticked in such a way that attracted her to Johannes. Truth be told, the only thing he'd really done... He smirked in spite of himself. Eric had been right to be so crass.

* * *

They arrived at home at last and he set about making tea for himself and Viola. The Gardevoir sat at the kitchen table and eyed him placidly, though confusion turned over in her head. Johannes was acting strangely, she could see and sense that much, but she had made a promise to herself to not pry if she could avoid it. Though she had relied on her ability to turn loose what the mind otherwise kept under lock and key in the past, she found herself using this power less and less often. Yet now it seemed that she should take at least a peek – just enough to find out what was bothering Johannes.

The surface of his thoughts were as troubled as she thought they'd be – he was mulling over something about her, something about this word Johannes had said long ago, and every so often the face of a bespectacled man or an intense-looking woman (she recognized her as Talia) would ripple across the ether of his thoughts. She frowned. It was clearly causing Johannes a considerable amount of distress and so at last she said, “Johannes, forgive me for doing so but I couldn't help but plumb your thoughts.”

Johannes turned about, clutching two cups of tea in his hand, and sighed. “It's alright Viola,” he said, sitting down before her, “I expected you'd do as much.” He set her tea before her and then sipped from his own. “So you have any idea about what it is that's going on?” he said at last.

Viola shrugged and contemplated her tea. “I will be honest: no, I do not Johannes. You mentioned the word 'love' and asked me if I knew what it meant. And you've been thinking of some bespectacled man and Talia. Are they all related?”

He shook his head. “No, they don't have...well, they do have to do with it, but they're not important. I'm a bit hung up on the idea of love because...” He fidgeted in his seat uncomfortably. “Well it's not something I really explained too well. Along with relationship dynamics between humans. Or much of anything. All I've really done is...” He took a sip of his tea to save himself the embarrassment of explaining any further. “Either way, I should apologize.”

The Gardevoir cocked her head. “For what? You haven't done anything wrong Johannes,” she mused after a pause, “I find this apology unnecessary.”

“I haven’t bothered to explain anything, I've just taken advantage of your attraction to me and I can't even comprehend why you're attracted to me because I haven't asked. I haven't done anything that goes into a proper relationship and for that, I'm sorry.” Johannes set his cup down, a pitiable look on his face. He dropped his eyes to the dregs of his tea. “Please forgive me.”

Soft petals lifted his face up and brought into view a very determined Viola. “I think that instead of forgiving you for something I don't quite understand, I will help you better understand. Perhaps I will better understand you as well.” She drew her hand softly down his face. “Please forgive my prying.” She gently touched her forehead to his.

* * *

It was cheating, really, he thought. There was nothing else this could have been. He could have easily covered five times the material he had taught her if he had simply allowed her to create this kind of direct connection with him. Thoughts flowed easily from ether to ether – and he was spared the embarrassment of attempting (rather vainly, he privately thought) to explain that amorphous creature, love, to Viola. Tenderness, care, mutual interest, co-reliance that avoided co-dependence; all this and more flowed from his mind into hers and when she finally broke contact with his forehead he felt immediately relieved. He had been right in assuming that his constant contact with her had kindled something in her soul, but he was surprised to know that while this would have made them excellent companions, she had gone so far as to interpret the entirety of their time together as a study turned courtship. It was bizarre – he hadn't done, at least to his knowledge, anything to court her. Perhaps it was his insistence in getting to better understand her that helped, but what he had floating about his head from their link only vaguely explained it. It would seem, he thought wryly, that Viola had almost as much difficulty as putting her finger on all that had happened as he did. Then again, perhaps the why didn't matter so much as the how, the what and the who; how they proceeded, what Johannes was both physically and mentally, and who he was to her. Much the same way he thought of who she was to him.

But then, all at once, he felt fatigued. The most fatigued he had ever been in his life. It felt as if his brain was pounding against the walls of his skull, lamenting a damnation that left it in a cell two sizes too small. He swayed unsteadily in his seat as the migraine in his head grew in intensity and then felt a rush of nausea hit his stomach harder than milk three weeks out of date. He flew to the sink and emptied a warm slurry of tea and what was left of breakfast into it. “Oh, by Arceus...” he moaned. “That...” He heaved again. “I didn't see that coming.” He gripped the edge of the counter and felt his knees buckle for a moment. “Viola, let's-” He heaved again. “Did you get everything you needed from that? I dunno how another go at it will leave me...” He felt her cling to his side, amid distressed tones ringing in his head. He looked down at Viola.

She looked terrified, and when she at last spoke, the chimes in his head were dreadfully high-pitched and drenched in worry, “I'm sorry Johannes, I didn't expect that to happen, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” Johannes managed a weak smile and rubbed her head reassuringly, though it didn't do much to help.

“Let me just lie down for a bit, alright?” he said slowly. He fought down another wave of nausea. “I'll be alright, okay?” At the look she gave him, he added, “I promise.” She clung still to his side and so, with a sigh, he lifted her and trudged back to his room. “You worry too much, Viola.”

The soft tinkle of her laughter eased his headache slightly. “I suppose the roles are reversed now, aren't they?” she chimed.

He entered his room and fell backwards onto the bed, still holding her. They laid in silence for a few minutes before Johannes said quietly, “Did it help?” He paused. “Because if it didn't, I think I have it in me to try again. Just give me a few hours, you know?”

Viola rolled to his side and turned his face towards her. “Yes, to some extent, it has, but after seeing how it left you, I'd rather we try a decidedly safer way. Talking has worked well enough, so I think we could do more of that,” she intoned. She pulled Johannes closer to her chest. “You had me very worried, I'd rather not have to witness that again.”

He kissed her cheek. “Come on now Viola, it wasn't that bad,” he replied bracingly. This was a half-truth; really, his pounding migraine was extremely unpleasant. “I could take another.” The look on her face left him somewhat relived. “Alright, alright, we'll do it the old fashioned way. Usually ends well anyway.” He kissed her cheek again, then her clavicle, and then trailed down her chest. Soft petals caressed his face, accompanied with quiet, expectant breaths. He trailed further down and parted her legs, anticipation welling within him, and then fainted.

* * *

Johannes awoke to the feel of a cool dampness on his forehead and the feeling of something stroking the top of his head softly. He turned to his side and felt the damp rag on his forehead slide off onto the pillow. “Viola? What happened?” he croaked. He tried to sit up but found himself unable to. “Why can't I sit up?”

“I'm holding you down Johannes,” she chimed in his head, “I don't think you should sit up so quickly after fainting.” She traced her hand down his face gently. “Just rest.” She laid down next to him and rested her head against his shoulder. “You made me worry again. A fair bit, actually. I don't think I've been quite so frightened in my life.” Her tone was lighthearted, the small smile on her face was genuine, but Johannes could still see the melancholy that hid behind her eyes.

He cupped her face in his hands and mumbled, “Sorry. I didn't think that'd happen. Honest.” He kissed her forehead and sighed. Johannes felt her arms wrap around him as she pulled herself closer to him. “I'll be fine. Could have been way worse.”

Viola, however, did not seem so convinced. “I'm not sure. How do I know it won't happen again?”

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the loud ring of his doorbell. “What? Who the hell is visiting?” He made to get up, but found himself incapable once again. “Viola, please, let me get up.” She shook her head, looking frightened. Johannes sighed. “Then walk with me. If I pass out you can catch me.” Her expression did not soften much. “Please?” She relented and let go of him, but remained very close to his side as they got up and walked to the front door.

Johannes pulled the door open to reveal Talia, who looked to him, Viola and the back to him. Her expression hardened noticeably. “Johannes. Eric was kind enough to fill me in on what happened during your meeting,” she said curtly. “And I felt somewhat obligated to come over and talk to you about it.”

With a sigh, Johannes leaned against the door frame and looked back at Viola “This'll take a little while Viola, go make some more tea. I'll be fine for this conversation, I promise,” he said soothing. “Besides, I'm gonna need it after this,” he added in an undertone. He thought she wouldn't listen, as the look of abject worry on her face clearly told him her legs weren't functioning properly, but she finally nodded and walked off into the house. He closed the door behind her and leaned against it. “Alright, if we're really going to do this, then go ahead, but at least do me the courtesy of harping on about something your brother didn't touch on.” He crossed his arms. His head was still throbbing, and he honestly wished he'd just let the bell ring, but it was too late for that now. “Go on.”

Talia averted her eyes and sighed in annoyance. “What the hell is it you're doing anyway? You _do_ know what you're doing right?” she said finally.

Johannes rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I think I know what I'm doing,” he said slowly, “Enjoying myself. Last I checked, so was Viola. So what's the issue here?”

She looked him in the eyes, a definite scowl on her face. Where Eric's eyes were usually a friendly, approachable hue of green, Talia's were an intense shade of it – Johannes remembered how much his other colleagues mentioned not wanting to be on her bad side. He agreed, though that meant nothing now. “Enjoying yourself? What you're doing is hardly normal Johannes. It was bad enough to screw with your work, your relationship with your boss – with your relationships in general.”

He threw his hands into the air in exasperation. “Oh for – You're not still hung up over that are you Talia?” he asked incredulously. “It was forever ago. Before I even knew Viola existed. Before any of this happened. Why bring it back up?” Their break-up had been anything but smooth. His slow descent into apathy towards her as a partner grated terribly on Talia, and in turn she grated rather terribly on him, as her insistence on discussing whatever problems he was having continued and intensified. Johannes found it difficult to explain to her what was happening and why – and it was really only now that he could really manage a proper explanation. Not that he'd give her one. It was his business who he was and what he preferred.

“Oh come on,” she spat, “Don't try to play it off. If this is the kind of person you were you could have just said so. At least then neither of us would have wasted their time.” The last few words reflected genuine hurt, but fire still burned behind her eyes.

Johannes shook his head. “You could have just, you know, accepted things weren't working out. That wouldn't have been too much of a problem would it?” He did his best to keep his voice even – headache or not, there wasn't anything to be gained from shouting. Not yet anyway.

Talia looked offended. “Excuse me? What kind of shitty excuse is that Johannes? You think people just give up when times get tough or something?” Her fists were clenched. “Don't be such a dickhead.”

He shifted his gait and shook his head slowly. “It's not a matter of 'times getting tough', Talia, it was just-” He paused. “Doesn't matter. I lost interest, and that's all. Maybe I should've been a bit more upfront and just said I'd rather we be colleagues.” Another pause. “Sorry. Dunno if that's what you were hoping for from me.”

She looked, if possible, angrier. “I'm not looking for some crappy explanation about happened Johannes, I've moved past that. I want to know why the hell you're now spending your days _fucking a Pokemon._ ” She laughed – a high, hollow cackle, devoid of warmth. “It's absurd. And you don't seem to care who the hell finds out.”

Johannes raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure that?” he asked, incredulous.

Again, another nasty laugh. “Eric already explained why you're back here. You got _deported_ from a region, Johannes. _Deported._ Do you know what kind of fuck up you have to be to have something like that happen?” He opened his mouth to retort angrily but she cut him off. “For fuck's sake, how do you get caught with your pants _literally_ down? Don't you have some sense of decency? The hell is wrong with you? In too much of a hurry to get your rocks off you can't even think straight anymore?”

He regarded her; the corner of his mouth twitched, and the beginnings of an angry response formed in his head, but after a moment of mulling it over, he sighed. “Forget it. You done? I've got better things to do with my day. If all you came here to do was tell me off for my choices, I don't need to hear it. Your brother did a good enough job already. And he was kind enough to say I'm a shitty researcher, not a shitty person. You could do with learning a thing or two from him. You know, like I've said a thousand times before.”

He had touched a nerve. Angry tears welled in Talia's eyes as she shouted, “Fine! Fuck you!” She made an obscene gesture at him and stormed off. He managed to catch her saying, “Dickless fucking asshole,” as she disappeared down the path. His shoulders slumped and he shook his head slowly. His migraine had lessened somewhat, though he believed it might have just been adrenaline. He turned about and opened the door to his house and was only slightly surprised to see Viola staring back at him, wringing her hands and looking, if possible, more worried than she did before.

He brought a hand up to the crown of her head and rubbed it. “That expression doesn't suit you Viola. And where'd you learn to do that?” He pointed to her hands.

She stepped forward and embraced him. “You did Johannes, who else would have?” She looked up at him. The chimes in his head were dissonant and steeped in mild fear. “Are you well?”

“I guess you pulled more from that head to head we had than I thought,” he mumbled. He shook his head and focused on her again. “Sorry, yeah, I'm fine Viola, I just need to lie down again.” He shut the door behind him and locked it. “Come with me. Not that I need to ask, I don't think you'd let me go to the bathroom alone the way you look.”

She hugged him tighter. “How are things going to work out between you and Talia?” she asked after a pause. “She seemed incredibly irate.”

He shrugged. “I dunno, but I don't have to work with her, so what does it matter? Let's go lie down.” He lifted her up and carried her back to their room. “I'm not worried about what she thinks about us or our relationship. Doesn't affect my life at all. Don't know what the hell is bothering her anyway. She said she wasn't hung up on the weird funk I sort of left between us when we broke up but I dunno. Doesn't seem like it at all.”

He was talking to himself more than anything, and had lost himself sufficiently in his own thoughts to be surprised when the voice in his head replied, “Forgive me for prying once again...” Johannes looked down at Viola. The expression she returned him was meek, and she looked away from him as he did so. “She was shouting and so were you, after a time. Most of her surface thoughts were on events that involved you. A time when the two of you shared a romantic relationship. It would seem it weighed heavier on her thoughts than she would like to believe.”

Johannes fell back onto his mattress, still clutching Viola. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, his migraine had returned, though it was not quite so intense anymore. “Well, I can't say I figured as much, but I'm definitely not surprised.” He sighed. “God damn it. I understand, I did a pretty shitty thing, but I apologized for it. And it was like two years ago, why is she still so hung up on it? Is it really just because of...” He looked down at Viola.

“Perhaps it is because of who I am that she is so bothered? Maybe I'm seen as a replacement?” mused the Pokemon. “Or do you believe it is just a terrible sense of jealousy?”

Johannes shook his head slowly. “I don't...I don't know. I don't think I got to know her well enough. I think-” He stopped. “I think I made a lot of the same mistakes I did with you. But I guess I lucked out that you're...”

She finished his sentence. “Not human?” The look he gave her in response was long and searching. “Johannes?” she pressed.

He pulled her up to him proper and rested his face against the top of her head. “Yeah. Which leads me to ask – why me? I _am_ human.”

He felt her sigh into his chest. The tones in his head were placid, uplifted. “Exactly.”

 


	6. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There'll be roads, paths, tracks, and water ahead of us; we'll call it "life."

* * *

 

Explicit language.

* * *

Three days later, the insistent beeping from his C-Gear made Johannes wonder if Talia had left him an incredibly angry message after stewing over their exchange—when he had finished reading it, he almost wished it had been.

A D-Class research report on the behavioral changes of Skarmory nearby. This was the D-Class assignment Johannes had received from Eric; the recent upswing in ash from Mt. Chimney was going to have some sort of effect on the surrounding farmland, and Eric's email explained that bramble brush along Route 113 may have been affected, reducing viable nesting locations for Skarmory and causing a shift in their behavior. Unfortunately, Johannes would first have to find out if the bramble brush had even been affected, which meant the better part of his next three afternoons spent on all fours in ash, inspecting the bramble for damage. Which meant he'd also be checking for Skarmory or the lack thereof. If he did find a Skarmory, then he would use the number of fingers removed by its wings to determine if it had become more territorial. He would repeat this until he was out of fingers, he supposed, after which he would note (with tremendous difficulty) whether the brush being dead or not impacted Skarmory and their nesting behavior. Then he would make his peace with Viola, bid her farewell, and bleed out.

He groaned at his plate of eggs.

“Is something wrong Johannes?” asked Viola. He looked up at the concerned expression on her face and shook his head.

“No, nothing,” he replied, taking the plate of toast she offered him from her, “I just don't want to do this assignment. I thought the three days of silence meant that maybe Eric had forgotten all about even giving me an assignment.” He sighed and took a bite of his toast. “But then that would mean that I'd have to find a new job.” He didn't particularly like his current one at the moment, but it was nevertheless a passion of his – and it paid fairly well. “Better for the both of us to not have to do that.” He took a bite of the toast and nodded in approval. “At least the last three days were worthwhile. You make better toast than I do.”

Viola smiled. “That's hardly an accomplishment Johannes,” she teased. “You slide bread into a metal box and push a lever down.”

He took another bite and said thickly, “Doesn't matter. Better than mine is.” He swallowed and scooped a mouthful of egg off his plate. “Uh, egg could have used a bit longer though.” A small drop of partially liquid egg dropped from his fork onto the plate. Viola inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Still good though,” he added.

Viola took a bite of toast herself and said after a moment, “My evidently budding cooking skills aside, what do you intend to do about your assignment?” She chewed patiently on her toast as she asked him.

Johannes fiddled with the egg on his plate before shrugging. “I don't know, I have to do it. I get the feeling it's punishment – sticking my hand in bramble is the least of my worries if there's a Skarmory in it. Especially a nesting one with chicks to defend. But I mean, I guess I deserved it,” he finished, somewhat lamely.

Viola cocked her head. “I didn't find much issue with the notes you took, if it's any consolation,” she explained bracingly, “I thought they were quite detailed in fact.” She averted her eyes from his for a moment in embarrassment. “A bit too detailed at times, I think.”

He nodded, a thin smile on his face. “Sorry, it's a habit you pick up in this line of work. And apparently, one I have to relearn, since the notes I have to take on this are going to be painstaking.” He groaned again. “Damn it Eric.”

“What makes you think the notes have to be so extensive?” asked Viola.

“They don't _have_ to be, but I have to show that I'm still capable of taking good, impartial, cogent notes. And that means I have to be painstaking. Almost excessively so.” He placed his fork down on his plate and leaned back in his chair. “I guess I better get this over with.”

Viola began to eat quickly. “You don't intend to leave me do you?” she chimed in his head as she shoveled food into her mouth.

He sat forward again and chuckled. “Sorry, I figured you'd want to take advantage and not have to crawl around in ash. You sure you want to come?” He smiled in earnest. Watching her eat quickly was quite amusing.

She swallowed the last of her food and drank down her tea in seconds. “Yes, I want to go!” She set her mug down on the table heavily and let out a long, steady sigh. Johannes grinned.

* * *

Viola coughed through her scarf. “Ugh, this ash is awful Johannes,” she whined. “Perhaps I should have stayed home after all.”

Johannes looked back at her and flashed an unseen grin through his own scarf. “Hey, you had a choice Viola,” he teased. “Now you're gonna have to tough this out with me-” The last word out of his mouth dragged on as he tripped over an ash-covered root and fell into a small mound of soot.

“Are you alright?” asked Viola as she waved the plumes of ash swirling before her away. “Johannes?”

He emerged from the ash cloud coughing and beating dust from his figure. “Yes,” he choked out when Viola at last came into view, “I'm fine. Mostly.” He sneezed and then groaned. “Damn it, the inside of my scarf is wet and gross now.” He looked about and sighed. “No sense peeling it off, it'll just get even more gross. Come on, let's find some bramble.” He peered about. This was going to be difficult.

His partner walked over and brushed patches of ash he had missed off his jacket. “Cheer up a bit Johannes,” she chimed soothingly. She pulled her scarf down to float up and kiss his cheek. It wasn’t the wisest move, as she now had a rather large quantity of ash on lips that she struggled vainly to sputter away. When she composed herself, she added, “I am rather confident this won't take you very long. And I will try to assist as best I can.”

Johannes looked at her as she touched back down and cupped the side of her face for a moment with his hand fondly. It left a light, hand-shaped print of ash when he pulled it away. He flashed her another unseen grin. “Yeah. Alright. Come on, I think I see a bush over there,” he replied.

The two approached the still bramble bush and after a beat Johannes exhaled and said, “Alright, here's hoping I get through this day with all my fingers intact.” He knelt down and carefully parted the prickly, winding, seemingly healthy stems. He saw nothing within the bush. He pulled them further apart and noticed something peculiar. Egg shells. Then a dull gleam. With a great screech, a Skarmory erupted from the brush and came to stop a few feet above Johannes and Viola. “Oh for Arceus's sake,” he groaned. The Skarmory inclined its head and launched itself at him. He pushed Viola bodily out of the way and fell face first into the ashen grass. The soft _whoosh_ of the Pokemon streaking past him made his spine tingle. He got to his feet, coughing and sneezing and gazed blearily at the hovering steel bird some twenty feet above him. “Of all the bramble out in this field we pick the one that has a Skarmory with newborn chicks.” He tugged his scarf from his face and sneezed again. “Ugh, this is only making it worse.” He looked over at Viola, sniffling. “Do we fight it or – fuck!” He threw himself out of the way of another dive bomb. “Viola?”

She responded by placing herself between the Skarmory and Johannes. “She is defending her nest Johannes, but I would reason she is rather inconsolable at the moment. I’ll attempt to placate her.” She locked glowing eyes with the Skarmory and stood still. The Pokemon gave another great screech and dove at Viola. With a sweeping gesture, the hypnosis took hold of the Pokemon, which closed its eyes and began to tumble through the air – still aimed at Viola. Johannes noticed, though just barely, what was happening and threw himself up at her waist to pull her down into the grass.

The Skarmory crashed into the ground somewhere behind them with a soft thud amid the sound of an unusual, high-pitched cry. Johannes waved the plumes of ash out of his face and sat up, looking about for the source of the sound before he realized it was Viola. He pulled her up into a sitting position and saw her clutching her shoulder. A small trickle of blood pooled out of from under her palm and began to run down her chest. A grimace of pain on her face, she looked up at Johannes. “I can't say I expected something quite like that to occur,” she said sheepishly. “I suppose I should have thought that through a bit more...”

Johannes rummaged about in his messenger bag and removed a small spray bottle from it a moment later. “These things don't expire, right?” he asked aloud. He turned the bottle about in his hands several times before uncapping the nozzle. “Never really thought I'd have to use this. Move your hand Viola, please?”

She obliged, and a crimson stream ran freely down her chest and side now. “It's a rather painful gash,” she explained, her tone pitching upwards and downwards erratically, “But not especially deep. I could mend this myself, I think, if you give me a moment.”

Johannes glanced down at the bottle in his hand. “Up to you.”

She considered his expression for a moment then inclined her head. “Use the potion,” she said. She poorly suppressed a soft cry as he sprayed and cleaned the wound with the small strip of included gauze.

Johannes rummaged about his bag again and pulled a wrapped package containing bandages. “Uh, I'm not exactly experienced with this so if this doesn't do the job then just,” he paused. “I'll get it done, nevermind. It can't be that hard.” It wasn't – at least, not after four tries. Despite the stinging, insistent pain of the wound, Viola giggled at his mounting frustration and eventual shout of triumph when at last the bandages were properly wrapped. “There. Let me take some notes, check a few more bramble bushes to see if they're alive as well, and we can get going. Does the cut sting less now?”

Viola smiled at him and wiped much of the ash on his nose, lips and cheeks away. “Yes,” she said honestly, “What is that expression... my hero?” She kissed him. “Yes, I think that was the expression.”

Johannes gave her an embarrassed grin.“Right well, let me just finish my research...”

* * *

It came to pass that the bramble that surrounded Fallarbor was hardier than he or Eric gave it credit for, or so thought Johannes. He wasn't a botanist, and had only his guesses and a vague understanding of botany remembered from his time in university to aid him. Nevertheless, he had some notes to deliver, and he ached to get them presented to Eric as soon as he could – he was so thoroughly coated in ash he felt several showers were in order, and the sooner he had the notes in his superior's hands, the better. He rolled over the Pokeball in his hand a few times. He wasn't sure what it was that possessed him to catch the Skarmory, it just seemed like the thing to do. He looked to his left and saw Viola gently stroking the back of one of the chicks. Their wings had yet to harden from the bramble, and so they were surprisingly fluffy.

“Viola, what am I going to do with a Skarmory anyway?” he said as they walked towards the research center. “I don't exactly battle. And neither do you, but I think Skarmory are more or less built for Trainer battles.” He eyed the red and white ball again. It was somewhat surprising that it had worked – he had expected he would have needed something a bit higher-end. Then again, the Pokemon had been put to sleep, potentially even knocked out it. Dumb luck, he decided, was on his side.

“You caught her Johannes, that's not exactly my decision,” replied Viola, her tone laced with glee at the sight of the chicks she was carrying, “It would not be a poor idea to hold onto her I would think. Her offspring, on the other hand...”

“Right, right, I'm thinking about that,” he said quickly, “I still don't know what to do with them. Eric could take them in. Skarmory are pretty useful Pokemon for battling and could be good for keeping researchers protected out in the field if they run into trouble.” He snapped his fingers in revelation. “I know what to do.”

* * *

Eric fought down his urge to laugh poorly. Johannes and Viola looked ridiculous. “Had a rather intense romp out there, did you Johannes?” he said as the researcher and his partner entered his office. He did a double-take. “Wait, are those Skarmory chicks?”

Johannes placed a notebook, the Pokeball he caught the mother with and motioned for Viola to set the chicks down on his superior's desk. “Yeah. The bramble bushes are fine as far as I can see. I also caught a Skarmory.”

Eric wiggled a finger in front of one of the chicks and smiled as it nipped at the appendage. “This some sort of peace offering Johannes?” he said after a moment. “Most people just send fruit baskets.”

Johannes rolled his eyes. “No, though if that's what you want to take them as, by all means,” he explained, “They belong to the Skarmory I caught. Didn't seem like a good idea to just leave them out there. I figured I'd leave mother with you too.” He set the ball down on his desk. “Just get her into the PC network or something, I'll pick her out of it if I never need a Skarmory. Don't know what for but – hey! You listening?”

“Aren't you just the cutest flying razor-in-the-making?” cooed Eric at an insistently chirping chick. He focused back on Johannes. “Sorry. Anyway, I'll take them as a peace offering well enough.” He looked up at Johannes and grinned. “Just keep it in your pants out in the field, will you? And what happened to her?” He gestured at Viola's bandages.

“A miscalculation on my part,” rang a cold voice in his head. Eric's spine tingled. How did Johannes deal with this? “I hypnotized the mother and, ah, failed to remember something rather important about objects in motion.” Her shoulders slumped somewhat and she looked at the ground in embarrassment. “Johannes acted as quickly as he could from where he laid on the ground but it is difficult for anyone to account for lapses in the reasoning of others.” She ran a finger along the bandages morosely. Something ruffled her hair, sending a rain of ashes out onto the rug below her.

“Don't beat yourself up about it Viola, jeez,” said Johannes cheerily, “People make mistakes.” She smiled at him. “That's better.” He looked back over at Eric. “Anyway, look, those are my notes. They're good right?” His boss tore his eyes away from the chicks and flipped through the notebook. They flit rapidly back and forth as he turned page after page before he closed the notebook and sighed. “W-well?”

Eric opened the drawer to his desk and removed a folder. He opened it and dropped the notebook into it before closing it again and tossing it back into his desk. “Yeah, it's more than fine Johannes, it's exactly what I expect of you,” he said, a faint smile on his face. “Knew I should've kept that drawer I had dedicated to you. Almost cleaned it out. Almost. Would have if these notes were shit.”

Johannes sighed in relief as Viola clasped her hands together happily. “This is wonderful news Johannes,” she exclaimed, the notes in his head high and ringing, “Better still, it seems Eric is a great deal less angry at you now.”

He nodded at her and faced Eric again. “That's good to hear man,” he said, relived. “I was worried I'd be doing D-Class work forever.”

Eric shook a finger at him. “Don't be mistaken Johannes,” he said seriously, “You're not off the hook.” He eyed the chicks chirping insistently at him and sighed. “Alright, you're kind of off the hook. The D-Class one anyway. Only issue is we've got a bit of a drought of C-Class work to do as well, but if I give you another B-Class project then Talia will have my head. Damn near almost did when I didn't take her sid-” He stopped himself mid-sentence and stared, mortified at his colleague. “Fuck, I didn't say that. You didn't hear that. Got it? The both of you.” He pointed between the couple manically. “I didn't say shit, alright?”

Eyes wide in understanding, and a small dose of confusion, Johannes nodded and said slowly, “On one condition Eric.” He paused. “Was a trio of fluffy Skarmory chicks and good notes all you really needed to forgive me? You're not weirded out at all by this?” He pointed to himself and then Viola. To his surprise, Viola pouted.

Eric sat back in his chair and sighed. “Come on man,” he said in mild exasperation, “I wasn't that mad at you.” He looked up at Johannes and scratched his face. “Okay, I was actually pretty fucking livid, but that's besides the point. We got into arguments about stupid shit in college all the time. But I mean, I'm your boss – it's my job to make sure you actually get your shit done or I have to fire you. So I had to put my foot down and make sure you understood why your notes were so ass and why you were such a shitty portrait of a researcher.” He pointed between Johannes and Viola. “I don't care about this. Do whatever you want, be happy, fuck, it's not my business.” He chewed his tongue for a moment. “I won't act like it's not the strangest fucking thing I've seen in my life, but it's not like it's unheard of. You've heard about all the shit going on in Sinnoh – they've been in talks with Kanto to keep travel privileges for their citizens on their passports.

Johannes shook his head. “I have no idea what you're talking about,” he said. “But I would sure as hell like to. Kanto won't let its citizens go to Sinnoh?”

His friend sighed. “Oh man, have you been under a rock?” he asked in amazement. He doubled back at the look on Johannes's face. “Right, you were basically off the grid forever, right, right.” He sat up straight in his seat and stroked one of the chicks absently. “What you said is backwards. Kanto won't let Sinnoh citizens in.”

Johannes furrowed his brow. “Why, exactly?” he asked.

Eric pointed between the couple again. “You guys,” he said simply, “Pokephilia's on the rise in Sinnoh. Those old ass legends have gotten into the minds of a surprising number of people in the region who have started asking why and when they stopped...” His mouth curled into a bemused smile and he chuckled. “Sorry, it's just, saying it out loud is just so bizarre. Even here in 'liberal' Hoenn. They're wondering why they ever stopped marrying Pokemon.”

Johannes looked at Viola. She seemed to be radiating heat, her face was so red. “That's different,” he said, more to her than to Eric.

Eric did not notice as he stroked the Skarmory chick along its back. “Yeah, pretty wild, eh? Anyway, the region is trying to push legislation forward to legalize it and honestly, it's basically a sure thing. Give it a month or two at the most and Sinnoh citizens will probably never be able to go to Kanto ever again. And Johto if Kanto throws a big enough fit. Kalos and Unova have been kind of hands off so far. Unova's certain to toss its lot in with Kanto if it comes to it. Kalos would rather mediate.”

“Didn't know you were one for politics. Is this on the news regularly or something?” asked Johannes. He ruffled Viola's hair again and threw her a knowing grin. She jumped at his touch and gave him a nervous smile before looking back to the floor.

“Enough, yeah. Talia loves keeping up with this shit. Keeps saying that Hoenn's too chummy with Sinnoh and it's starting to influence the population,” he said, somewhat disinterested. “She could go on for hours about her opinion on it and I really don't give a fuck man, I'll be honest. She's my sister so I don't have a choice, I've gotta listen, but man. It's dull. So some people are out there fucking Pokemon, whatever, as long as they're not doing it in public like decent human beings.” He paused and looked pointedly at Johannes. “Then we're golden. People don't fuck in public either. Decent ones anyway. Mostly.” He sighed. “Well, whatever, the world turns, no human alive gets to say otherwise.”

“The whole thing is just one big fucking mess I want to stay out of man,” he continued. “But Talia just keeps dragging me back into it. I swear, she wouldn't be so fucking insistent on her views if she just had some damned closure-” He stopped. “Oh for FUCK'S sake Eric, you fucking did it again.”

Johannes's attention snapped immediately to Eric. “So Viola _was_ right, she's still hung up on me,” he said quietly.

“No man, she's not hung up on _you_. She probably hates your fucking guts; she's hung up on you _leaving._ Won't admit it to you, and only kinda admitted it to me, but yeah. Just wants to know if you left her because of her or because of, you know, crossing over.” He gestured to Viola.

“I didn't know Viola then,” said Johannes irritably, “I already said this to her. I lost interest. Maybe it _was_ just a little switch in my brain saying, 'Oh hey, you're not really into humans anymore, sorry, time to leave this all behind,' and I just had to go along with it, or maybe my heart wasn't in it.” He reflected on that for a moment. “Yeah, that's a part of it but, I don't know, I didn't put much thought into it at the time or after. Even now. Honestly, I didn't put a lot of thought into anything really concerning my love life until Viola. Partially thanks to you.” He chuckled nervously. “Actually saved me there, truth be told.”

Eric waved off the thanks. “Wasn't really about setting you straight with her, it was about getting my star researcher back.” He pulled a stack folders out from another drawer and dumped them on his desk. “And back out there again. I'm going back on my word Jo, and only because I was stupid enough to blab about something that shouldn't have been said.” He flipped through the folders. “As long as you don't take this as an invitation to act like an idiot,” he began, “I'll assign you this.”

He slid the folder across his desk and motioned for Johannes to pick it up. “What is-” His question caught in his throat as he read over the project details. “Celestic Town?” He looked up at Eric. “You're sending me to Sinnoh? _Me?_ ” Eric nodded. “I thought you didn't have an opinion on my relationship choices.”

Eric laughed. “I don't man, do whatever makes you happy. It's the only A-Class project we have that isn't in Kanto or here. If I can get you out of Hoenn, I can get you out of any kind of meetings here at the institute. Peace and quiet for me once Talia has nothing to be pissed off about anymore.” He rubbed his hands together greedily. “It's collaborative work alongside the town's own Historical Research Center. Nothing fancy, sorry to say, mostly grunt work.”

Johannes eyed the folder apprehensively. “Uh, what kind of grunt work?” he asked. The project description he had managed to skim through was decidedly vague.

“Shit below your station I'd imagine. Some stuff that befits your position, don't get me wrong, I know there's fieldwork attached, but you're mainly going to be a sort of encyclopedia for them while you're in Celestic itself. But you won't be staying in Celestic for the entire project, you'll be getting moved around Sinnoh to study and provide background on Pokemon behavior as they see fit, so you can probably take comfort in that.” He gently bounced a chick between his hands and added, “No out of pocket, Jo. Their funds. Room, board, and change.”

“Just like the B-Class you sent me on, eh?” mumbled Johannes. “This a good idea Eric? I took one batch of good notes and you're acting like I found out how to talk to Magikarp.”

Eric set the chick down and laced his fingers together. “I'll be frank, you haven't earned this. You haven't really earned a B-Class either, you were right to think you should just be doing C-Class. You and I both know this, but, well, you've got me by the balls Jo. Actually, Talia does, but only as long as you're here, so I'm not above blaming you. I know normally I ask you to _consider_ assignments, but please, _take_ this assignment. It's an indefinite gig. Runs as long as it needs to, but they've set the minimum time to two years. Could land you a comfy research position out there even. Not that I'm about to fire you or anything, but hey, an offer out there would be good, wouldn't it?”

Johannes looked at Viola. “What do you think?” he asked.

Viola waved off the question, her face in her free hand. “Whatever you decide mast- um, Johannes,” she chimed in his head in a remarkably even tone,“I will be quite happy with.” There were flashes of glee and anticipation exploding along the tapestry of his thoughts as she said this. It was rather uncommon, after so long, for her emotions to overflow.

“Jeez, that flustered, huh?” He took her hand in his and turned back to Eric. “Need me out of your hair this much?”

Eric smiled sheepishly. “Yes, please,” he said simply. He pointed at Viola, “Besides I think she's already made up her mind. Be nice for the two of you.”

Johannes chose to ignore the ribbing and ran his free hand through his hair and sighed. “Sure, fine. I'll take it.” He scooped up the folder and slipped it into his messenger bag. “No idea what they want a behavioral researcher for, but yeah, I'll do the job. When do I ship out?”

The door beside him cracked open. “Ship out where?” asked a terribly familiar voice. Talia strode into the room. Her eyes swept past Johannes and Viola in much the same way one regarded furniture.

Eric dropped his face into his hands. “Nothing Talia,” he said in a determinedly dismissive tone, “I'll be with you in a second.”

“Drop the act Eric, I heard what you said,” she snapped.

“Do you just hang outside my office eavesdropping now?” he said, exasperated. “Alright, the Skitty's out of the bag then, is it?” He pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. “Yes, I'm sending Johannes off to Sinnoh so you'll get the stick out of your ass and go back to how you were before he showed up.”

Talia's face contorted with rage. She rounded on Johannes. “The fuck did you pull that shit back then for? Do you take into consideration how people feel at _all_?” she said venomously. “Normal, functioning members of society have the common sense to actually say what's on their mind. And most Pokefuckers have the audacity to admit to their fucked up state of mind. Why couldn't you?”

“Are we really doing this? I apologized already. I don't know what I could do to make any of that up to you, but I'm guessing nothing at all,” mumbled Johannes. He shook his head and pulled Viola towards the door. “What happened back then was the equivalent of one door closing and another opening. That's it. I couldn't explain it further if I tried. Happy? I'm getting out of here. Thanks for the assignment Eric, I'm going home. Sorry Talia, but that's all there was to it.” A book slammed into the door frame and landed at his feet as he made for the threshold. He turned around and saw Talia, arm outstretched, chest heaving. “Did you just throw a fucking book at me?”

“You're not getting off the hook that easy Johannes. Eric might have given you a free pass but I'm not about to,” she breathed, unhooking a ball from her belt. “Fight me. I win, you're working through D-Classes until you've earned a C-Class the old fashioned way.”

“Talia, you're not in any position to decide what Johannes can and can't do when it comes to his projects,” said Eric angrily.

She turned her head to face him and bellowed, “Stay out of this Eric! You want to give him the easy way out then I'll have him and YOU reported for flagrant disregard of the rules that govern the integrity of this institute.”

“Oh for fuck's sake-” began Eric.

“Fine,” said Johannes quietly. “Viola, you want to go to Sinnoh?” The Gardevoir looked at him, her face set and nodded. “Alright, then we're winning this and getting out of here. No reports. Drop this shit. Deal?”

Talia grit her teeth. “Deal.”

“Fight in the courtyard please,” moaned Eric, “My office looks like shit enough as it is without you helping out.” He heaved himself out of his seat. “I'll ref. No bias,” he said. At the look on his sister’s face, he added hastily, “I swear.”

* * *

Night had fallen during their discussion and subsequent altercation. A set of spotlights kept the courtyard of the institute illuminated, though Johannes noted it was still rather difficult to see.

Talia tossed a Pokeball out – its beam of red light produced the shape of a Mismagius. “Have fun fighting a ghost in the dark,” she taunted, a mean smirk on her face.

Johannes turned Viola around and looked her in the eyes. “I have no idea what to do,” he said honestly. “I'm not a Trainer, I'm a researcher. I know what you can do, don't get me wrong, I'd be a complete idiot and terrible researcher material if I didn't know what _most_ Pokemon can do, but I don't know specific attacks or techniques outside of really common ones I'd encounter out in the field.”

She reached up and cupped his face. “You worry too much Johannes,” she chimed. “I have full confidence in you.”

He frowned. “Yeah but I don't have any in myself for this kind of stuff. I only agreed to this so Eric wouldn't get in trouble,” he explained. “But...” He rummaged into his bag and pulled out a Pokeball. “You, I have complete confidence in.” He pulled her hand from his face and placed the ball in it. “What do you think we should do? Mismagius is a Ghost type, so we're already at a huge disadvantage.”

Viola turned the ball in her hand over several times, contemplating it. When she finally spoke, the tones in his head were cracking. “I don't have any Ghost-type techniques in my repertoire Johannes. Only what is intrinsic to my line.”

“Hey!” Talia shouted furiously from the other side of the courtyard. “Stop talking and get this shit started already!”

Eric hushed her. “He's got some time to strategize. A good chunk of his foreseeable future is on the line after all,” he said wearily.

“Two minutes then, asshole!” she shouted at Johannes.

“Damn, alright. We need to hurry. What do we do? Nothing we do will particularly hurt that Mismagius,” he said quickly.

Viola turned about and glanced between the two lights that kept the picnic table in the courtyard illuminated and then up at the night sky. A smile spread slowly across her face. “No Johannes, but we do have the gift of time,” she said finally. “Let us begin.” She stepped towards the Mismagius.

Eric walked dejectedly up to the two Pokemon and looked between Johannes and Talia. “Yadda yadda, rules, same old shit, first out loses and we can all get on with our lives,” he said aloud. “Begin. I guess.”

Viola ran immediately counterclockwise to the Mismagius, attempting to position it between herself and the lamppost. A Shadow Ball narrowly missed her on the way there. Multicolored leaves blinked into existence around her and flew straight at the Mismagius, who responded by immediately flipping in midair away from them. They sailed harmlessly past the Pokemon and destroyed the light fixture. Somewhere to her right, Viola heard Talia laugh.

“How the hell do you miss with something like that? That's the whole point of using it! Shadow Ball her again, Luna!” Talia shouted.

The second Shadow Ball struck Viola's leg and knocked her to a knee. She winced in pain and looked up at the Mismagius in time to see yet another sphere fly at her. She rolled to the side and her eyes found the battered lantern that hung from the lamppost. She lifted it into the air and looked back at the Mismagius – it was lined up in front of the other lamppost. She suppressed a smile and threw it forcefully at the other dangling lantern. The Mismagius laughed as the lantern sailed harmlessly through her body and brought the other lantern behind her down to the ground with a crash.

'Was she trying to miss? Magical Leaf is notoriously accurate and she should know that something like a lantern isn't going to hurt a Ghost type,' thought Johannes in a panic. 'Can Viola even see her still? All that's left is the light of the stars and the moon.' His thoughts caught on that last couple of words. 'The moon.'

Viola looked about in false panic – if she could convincingly feign blindness, this ploy would end the fight.

“Luna, Phantom Force!” shouted Talia from across the courtyard.

Somewhere in the darkness Viola saw the Mismagius phase from existence. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. She dropped the Pokeball she had been carrying to the ground and clasped her hands together. Energy began to collect in them. All that stood between her and success was the correct angle of attack.

“Johannes,” said a familiar voice in his head, “As I said before, I have complete confidence in you, and now I require your advice. Where do I strike?”

He clamped his eyes shut and racked his brains, sifting panickedly through the muddled memories of his time with Talia. There were hardly any battles to recall, he was so disinterested in it all. Except one. Luna had flown at the Pokemon she was attacking from above. It felt like a stone had slid into his stomach; a terrible amount rode on a sample size of one. He tore his eyes open and shouted, “ABOVE!”

She unclasped her hands and an orb of light winked into existence. She launched it directly up into the air, directly at the Mismagius that winked into existence before the sphere as she sped full tilt at Viola. There was an explosion of light that lit up the courtyard and revealed the slowly falling figure of Luna as she drifted to the earth. Talia looked on, frozen.

Eric let out a low whistle. “Well, uh...” he began, as he approached the Mismagius, “I think Luna's given it all she could.” He knelt down beside the unconscious Pokemon and looked at it for a moment. “Yeah, she's out Talia.” He stood up. “Match goes to Johannes and Viola.” Talia raised Luna's Pokeball numbly and recalled the Mismagius. “Tal? You alright?” asked Eric, seeing the look on her face. She turned her head slowly towards him and stared him in the eyes for a minute. Without a word, she turned and left. He heard her footsteps fade away and then said quietly, “Maybe I should tell Johannes to stay after all so she doesn't kill me.” He sighed and made his way to the victors.

Viola bent over and picked her Pokeball up off of the grass, a broad smile still on her face. As she straightened up she thought to turn about and limp triumphantly back to Johannes but instead was startled by a laughing figure that lifted her off the ground and spun her about. “That was brilliant Viola!” She felt his lips press against her forehead several times and her cheeks growing hot. “I knew you could do it!”

She looked up at Johannes and smiled warmly. “Without your input, I would not have,” she intoned placidly. “Thank you Johannes.” She kissed him.

A bright light on his face pulled Johannes away from her. “Save it for Sinnoh, you two,” said the approaching voice of Eric, a large grin on his face and a flashlight in his hands. “Not bad Johannes, didn't know you had ESP too. Didn't say a damn thing all battle until the very end,” he remarked.

His colleague raised an eyebrow. “I don't have ESP,” he said simply, “Viola decided what to do.”

Eric's eyebrows furrowed. “That's rather, uh, un-Trainer like. Then again, Talia didn't exactly pick a fight with a Trainer type.”

“No offense,” he said after a beat. “But Pokemon wouldn't survive in the wild if they couldn't fight unaided right?”

Johannes set Viola down. “Guess not. Where'd she head off to anyway?” he asked.

“Dunno. Probably home to sulk or cry or both. She'll get over it now that she's had her ass handed to her good and proper,” he mused. “It doesn't really matter all that much either way, does it?”

Johannes looked taken aback. “I mean she's your sister, I figured you'd be worried,” he began.

“Don't bother Jo. She's my sister so I'll worry about her on my time. You don't give a damn because as far as I can see, you told her the truth and she didn't want to hear it. Or believe it. You put this behind you a long time ago, and I'm glad she finally had someone tell her to shut up and do the same. That she had to listen to anyway, because she sure as fuck didn't listen to me,” explained Eric. “Head on home man, you're shipping out tomorrow afternoon.”

“Wait, what? You want me to pack for a two year trip in a single night?” complained Johannes. “Is that even reasonable?”

Eric laughed. “Traveled really heavy the last year, did you?”

Viola giggled. “He is not incorrect, Johannes,” she chimed. “Your personal effects are rather lacking.”

“I'm not sending you to bumfuck nowhere Jo,” said Eric, “You'll be able to buy necessities when you get there. Just pack a couple days worth of clothes, tents and camping shit so you don't have to buy more and get the rest of the shit you need when you get there. Hell, go with just whatever you put on tomorrow morning. I'll take care of the shit in your house, toss out old eggs, stuff like that. I just need you out of here in the event Talia goes crazy and tries something.”

“You know, sisters aren't supposed to cause you this much grief,” started Johannes.

Eric cut in. “And she didn't until you showed up. Just get packed, okay? For me man. Quid pro quo.”

Once again, Eric was right.

* * *

For all his complaining about not having sufficient time to pack, Johannes did little to help himself manage the time he _did_ have better. He knew why he was still up tossing what few belongings he felt he'd need with him into a backpack and his messenger bag while Viola slumbered behind him. But really, _she_ had invited _him_ to shower alongside her. It would have been rude to decline. The absolute pinnacle of insensitivity even. At least there wasn't any sort of water rationing in effect. He tossed both bags by his bedroom door at last and got into bed.

The morning came almost immediately after he had laid down, or so it felt. He groaned as something shook his shoulder insistently. “Johannes, please wake up,” said Viola insistently, “It is noon.”

He groaned and opened his eyes slowly. “Already?” he murmured. “How?”

He heard her giggle. “That is how time functions Johannes,” she replied. “We must be off soon to meet Eric. ”

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I haven’t forgotten; it was yesterday and really important,” he mumbled. “Just let me get dressed.”

* * *

The coffee he brewed was working, but not quite as much as he had hoped; he still felt drowsy as they walked to the cafe where they were to meet Eric. When they arrived, he sat down at a patio table and ordered another coffee for himself and Viola. He looked around for Eric to no avail, “How early are we anyway?” he asked. It was ten past one. “Don't tell me he's going to be here at four or something,” he mumbled into his cup.

Viola rolled her Pokeball back and forth between her hands along the table. “He said around two, did he not?” she wondered.

“Well, means we've got some time to kill. And wake up. Usually the cold does a pretty good job of waking me up, but it just had to be on the warmer side today,” he said. He watched her roll the ball back and forth for a minute before asking, “Viola, are you just carrying that around?”

She nodded. “You presented me with it Johannes, why wouldn't I be? I also haven’t anywhere to really store it.”

He slapped his forehead. “Right, you don't,” he said. “Sorry, that was my fault. Wait here, okay?”

“Johannes?” she chimed. She turned and watched his retreating back head down the block and disappear into a store. He emerged some ten minutes later clutching a small bag.

“You know, it's really odd to ask a clerk for a Pokeball belt that fits a Gardevoir,” he explained, chuckling. He pulled a brilliantly white, thin belt from the bag. “Especially since we basically had to guess in the end. Anyway, here let me see that.” He took the Pokeball from her and clipped it to the belt. “Alright, now stand up so I can put this on you.”

She obliged. “Johannes, this is rather unconventional, isn't it? And mildly ill-advised?” The tones were quiet.

“Eh, I dunno,” he said, shrugging. “But I already said, I'm not exactly a Trainer. Just a researcher. Besides, we won't be seeing much in the way of combat, so I wouldn't be too worried about the ball breaking or something.” He threaded the belt through its silver loop and tightened it, then frowned. “Well, better slightly loose than overly tight. Sorry Viola, it's not going to sit perfectly straight, there isn't a hole in the belt where there should be to fit your waist. I'll get one made later.” She looked down as he pulled away from her and admired the belt, then stepped forward and embraced him.

“That's quite alright. Thank you,” she replied. She tilted her head up and kissed his cheek.

Somewhere behind him, Johannes heard a few mutters spring up among a few cafe patrons, but next to him, heard a genial voice. “You're too audacious for your own good Johannes. You and Viola.” Eric clapped him on the back as Johannes turned to look at him – he was leaning off to one side on his bicycle. “How's it going bud? Here's your train pass and ferry ticket,” he said, pulling them out of his pocket – they were slightly crumpled. “It'll be a bit of a journey, but you'll be in Sinnoh before you know it. But, I've gotta get a move on. Shit to do, angry tirades to deal with you know the deal.” He gave him a grin.

Johannes returned it. “More than I’d like to,” he replied.

“Do me a favor too, try to keep up our reputation, will you? You'll be in Sinnoh, but that's not an open invitation to act like a dumbass,” said Eric more seriously.

Johannes rolled his eyes. “Yeah sure, anything else I should know 'dad'?”

Eric laughed and leaned in towards him. “Hey man, you're the one that got deported for not keeping it in your pants. Never letting you live that one down either, gonna be a send off for every last call you make to me, you hear?”

Johannes groaned and waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, I should have expected as much.” Eric threw him a smile and set off.

The couple watched him disappear around a corner. “Let's go Viola.”

* * *

Johannes felt something tug on his jacket's sleeve. He lifted his head off the glass of the train window and looked blearily down at Viola. “What's up?” he mumbled sleepily. “We almost there?”

Viola slumped onto his shoulder and took his hand in hers. “No, I'm sorry for waking you Johannes, but I have a question. At the cafe, some of those patrons were muttering. They were uncomfortable,” she said evenly. “But in Sinnoh, this won't quite be the case anymore will it?”

Johannes cracked his neck and sat up straighter. “I... Hm. I don't know,” he said quietly. “I don't think it would be. If they're pushing forward legislation about something like marriage, I think a peck on the lips isn't really at the forefront of the citizens' minds. They’re way past being weirded out by that.”

She nestled closer to him. “Then we, what we look like – that won't be a problem?” she asked.

He frowned. “No, I don't think so. I mean, it wasn't that big a problem here. Then again, I was a little more aware of what I was doing after what happened in Kanto. Were you?” he replied.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I feared some sort of discipline would befall you.”

“Well, if by discipline you mean insults and disapproving looks, maybe. Hoenn's a bit laxer on these things,” he reasoned. “So it's not like it would have been the end of the world.” He paused. “Why are you asking me this?”

Viola took a shuddering breath and turned in her seat. She took his hands in her own and leaned forward. “I have the luxury of communicating entirely through telepathy with you. What I say, what I feel about a situation – all of it is free from judgment unless I will it to be heard by more than just you. But you, you must respond aloud, where anyone – regardless of how much or how little they know of you – can pass judgment. Or worse, act upon it. But in Sinnoh, I can worry far less about it.”

He gave her a tiny grin. “Come on Viola,” he said, “I don't give a damn what people think. I thought yesterday taught you that.”

A petal stroked the side of his face softly. “Johannes, I love you.” Her cheeks reddened and she buried her face into his chest. “I'm sorry for being dramatic.”

The train slowed. “Now arriving in Slateport. Please collect your belongings and ensure you have not left anything behind,” said a cool voice that rang through the train.

He pulled her head away from his chest and kissed her. “And I love you,” he said as he pulled away. “And no one's going to neck me for it.” He gestured out to the train car at the oblivious passengers for added effect. “See?”

Viola dropped her arms to his midsection and hugged him tightly, too embarrassed for words.

“Arrived in Slateport. Please ensure you have not left behind any belongings before you exit the train. We thank you and wish you a pleasant evening.”


End file.
